


work in progress

by galaxyeyedrops



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyeyedrops/pseuds/galaxyeyedrops
Summary: tired after their final battle, the phantom thieves crash at ann's place.(my entry for the p5 sleepovers zine!)





	work in progress

Yaldabaoth is a foe like no other. The false god bears down on them with programmed aggression rather than malice. The monsters they fought in people's minds were driven by desire, by anger, by fear. Separate from that sickening sense of entitlement, it's these drives that, ironically, make one human. And it's these desires the Demiurge rains from the sky as curses. 

The fight is neither quick nor easy. There are moments where they just want to give up, sink into that blessed darkness—leave the hard part for someone else—but they don't. They can't. One by one, they rally against Yaldabaoth, dragging their friends back up, over and over again. And when Yaldabaoth pins them all down at once, it's his own champion that saves the Phantom Thieves. Turning his sword against his master, he gives the final bit of encouragement needed to break Satanael's chains.

And then, it ends. The boogeyman's appearance fizzles and dies out, until there is nothing to fear but an inanimate object, relieved smiles reflected in its radiance. And it's only after, when they're done laughing and hugging each other, that they finally give in to their exhaustion and collapse.

It's Morgana that speaks first. Mustering up the strength to explain how he has to go, the littlest phantom thief stares at himself in surprise as he very clearly doesn't. Akechi murmurs something about the metaverse, and proceeds to follow in his footsteps. He explains how its really him who needs to leave—but for emotional reasons rather than metaphysical—and in turn, is also stopped. This time by a messy haired teen with a vice grip on his ankle.

Ann speaks third, and this time with actual reason. “My apartment is close by,” she offers, eyeing the pedestrians that have started to walk around them. “Why don't we all just crash there?”

* * *

The doorman checks in eight teenagers—a girl vaguely resembling one of the tenants, only recognizable by the blond hair framing a rather grimy face—and a cat. 

There is a detailed policy concerning pets, the words **DO NOT** stamped out on multiple official papers in bold red. It's when the doorman raises an eyebrow, that the girl remembers, immediately going on the defensive. “He's a plush toy,” she tells him, her friends nodding in unison behind her, as if he hadn't see it shift itself in their youngest's arms only a few seconds back. “They just make them super realistic nowadays!”

He breaks the stare, hears the children sigh in relief, the sound of their footsteps fading as they reach the elevator. The housing company doesn't pay him well enough to care.

* * *

Ann is the first to claim the shower, offering the other bathroom to Makoto immediately after. In any other circumstance, she's sure Akechi would push his way to the front of the line, his normally sleek locks are stringy—but murder and betrayal are no small crimes, and so he chooses to wait his turn. In contrast, Ryuji volunteers himself last, parsing through a list of nearby take out places on his phone in the meantime, figuring out which is the best value while Haru dumps several pairs of pajamas into her Amazon cart, selecting the two hour delivery option with little hesitation. Unaware, Ren and Yusuke go through Ann's disaster of a closet, searching for anything that'll fit them.

By the time Ann leaves the bathroom, both Makoto and Haru have already finished their showers—Makoto’s strict fifteen minute regimen having infected her girlfriend in a matter of weeks. Yusuke walks up to her as she enters the living room, holding up her own clothes to her face. “Which do you think is better,” he asks, gesturing at a pair of yoga pants and galaxy patterned tights in turn. Ann squints, eyeing the oversized purple tank top Yusuke settled on, imagining both options on his body to compare.

Red creeps up into her cheeks as she tells him that he should definitely (definitely!) go with the tights.

The pajamas arrive before the food. There is a small tussle over who gets what, most of their sizes similar enough to be switched, but with the way Futaba reaches for the set in Yusuke's size, that has little bearing on their situation. Yusuke shrugs at her actions, saying that it doesn't matter, she could have it, he likes his current outfit better anyways. Off to the side, Akechi accepts a kigurumi from Haru with a resigned nod.

Ren is the first to fall asleep, his habit of switching personas so often, even forming a terrifyingly powerful new one in the middle of battle, taking its toll. His head rests on Akechi's lap, who, given the ever so slightly quirked lips that turn just this side of smug as he sees their questioning looks, is accepting their leader's revenge rather sportingly.

Mona curls up next to them both—security measures he explains with his usual affected air—but is snoring within minutes, and the rest of them, significantly less tired and more used to physically draining work (with the exception of Futaba, who had a niche outside of screaming and shooting things) set out to enjoy the Phantom Thieves’ Second Official Sleepover.

While Ann enlists Ryuji to help her gather pillows and blankets, Haru and Yusuke look through her parents’ movie collection. Everything is stacked neatly across several shelves, titles arranged by genre. Easy as it is to parse, there is a fine layer of dust coating each box—an effect of overseas work as well as Ann’s own preference for streaming.

They decide on something foreign—an arthouse film with subtitles that reviewers described as _so raw so touching—_ that Ryuji squints at the moment he returns, arms laden with linens. Ann takes a bit longer, having made a detour to her room to pick up some party essentials.

The first item is a monopoly board, which the group immediately vetoes, citing that they've dealt with enough viciousness for the day. The other is an unopened nail art kit, gifted by one of Ann's co-workers last year on her birthday. The latter is much more well-received, given the enthusiasm with which Futaba tears into the packaging.

In minutes, the pieces are neatly laid out across the coffee table, accompanied by several bottles of nail polish Ann picked up on her second trip. 

As favorite colors and holographic formulas are quickly snatched up, Yusuke goes through the remaining products with a more speculative eye. He tilts up a bottle of white polish up to the light, testing its opacity. He nods to himself after a moment, clearly satisfied, and turns back to see his friends.

Makoto is carefully painting Futaba's nails, multiple bottles of polish around them. Each finger features a different color—the order corresponding to the current Featherman season's roll call—neatly filled in without a single smear or drop out of place. In contrast, Ryuji's work is fairly messy, the polish drips past Haru's cuticles, making its way down to her knuckles much to the boy's chagrin.

Haru, herself, is unflappable, focusing instead on her plan for Ryuji's hand after they switch, sticker sheets and several warm summery colors stacked near her.

It's with joy that Ann watches her friends have fun. She waves off their offers to do her nails with the declaration that she's the host, it's only right for her to go last. But when Yusuke approaches her, detailing his plan and asking for permission, she can't find it in herself to refuse.

* * *

Her heart skips a beat as Yusuke unconsciously blows on fingers to aid the drying process. He tests the base color on her thumb with a thin brush, dragging it across the surface of the nail. He makes a pleased sound when it doesn't streak, leaning to his right to grab a pale blue bottle, dipping the brush in when he's settled back.

The designs Yusuke chose are all winter themed. Her hand resting in his, he draws with single-minded focus. Snowflakes take shape over their clasped hands, baubles and christmas trees filling out the spaces below. With a dotter tool, he details a snowstorm.

He works for what seems like hours, her chest matching rhythm with his strokes for eternity, until he—looking up at her from under the fall of his eyelashes—announces that he's finished.

He doesn't ask for praise but Ann gives it regardless, gushing over the result, asking him if he could _take a picture real quick?_

He complies, taking her offered cell phone with pride, scrolling through several instagram filters before selecting what he deems perfect.

"Merry Christmas," he says, giving her hand a slight squeeze as he returns the item. He moves to withdraw, but stops when he feels the fingers of her dry hand wrap around his wrist.

"Merry Christmas," she repeats, cheeks flushed, tilting her face so it's level with his. Their lips are a breath apart.

Around them, Ryuji and Futaba loudly debate who has the better hand, leaving Haru and Makoto to huddle closer to the TV to better hear the movie. The room where the other three rest is shut tight, lest they disturb their sleep.

Ann and Yusuke break apart with identical smiles. Yusuke's fingers drift from her chin to run over the edge of her mouth, memorizing the feeling, mentally comparing it to the press against his own.

Ann memorizes it as well. Surrounded by friends, alive and well, leaning into one who might be something more, her lips stretch to the point her grin is blinding.


End file.
